kamiel [at] creativechoice.org

All about: Miller

Outer space, comin' in. Got some Joycean interminglings here, I'm gut at it. Get rugged again, ruggged and tough like Miller and Hemingway and thick-fingered writers with a typewriter in a suitcase with a strong smell of leather. I want more words, more sounds, braid and weave them to a napkin of language you can ...

Today Jack got out early, while I was still dreaming of rosabuds and guirlandes on the wall of a monch's refectory, of tulips and waterpipes, of drowsy days spent under semisphericalpink umbrellas, of the Lisbon elevator that takes you up to the sky for only 2€ and the tram that takes you down for ...

For writing perhaps you need loneliness. Loneliness for breakfast, loneliness for lunch and loneliness for dinner. But that will never be enough. You'll need to sleep with her, caress her cheeks, she'll have to be the muse in all of your dreams. And what is it you can write then? A really-real account of that ...

I started to realize that getting to Russia from here was too easy to let the opportunity pass, and I got the necessary documents. The travel agency provided an "invitation". So I was invited without knowing anybody in Russia. Well, they knew me, or they knew all they wanted to know about me, and that ...